Beginnings
by Stellanti Nocte
Summary: Tom Riddle hated December 31 with a passion. It was a day for stupid celebrations and far too much noise. HP/TMR pre-slash.


**Title:** Beginnings

**Pairing:** Harry Potter/Tom Riddle

**Rating:** T

**Warnings:** pre-slash (homosexual relationships), AU non-magical

**Words:** 1,721

**Summary:** Tom Riddle hated December 31 with a passion. It was a day for stupid celebrations and cowardly people pretending that they could gain some bravery during the upcoming year. The holiday was completely worthless, in his opinion. After all, how could anyone happily welcome the New Year when it was surrounded by so much _noise_?

**A/N:** Okay, so I wrote this about an hour before midnight and wanted to publish it immediately, in favor of the festive New Year's celebrations, so I'm sorry if it's kind of simple and rushed. *sweatdrops*

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><p>Tom Riddle growled as yet another firework exploded in the air just outside of his house. It was barely dusk and people were already beginning to shoot firecrackers. He just knew that this night was only going to get worse.<p>

After all, how could anyone happily welcome the New Year when it was the reminder of your very bland existence and surrounded by so much _noise_?

It was New Year's Eve and Tom's parents were hosting their annual New Year's Eve Party. All of Tom Riddle Senior's executive friends were sitting outside and watching a rather spectacular fireworks show that had started two hours ago and would continue on for another two until midnight. Tom was hiding in his room and trying all he could to block out the horrid sounds.

He hated December thirty-first with a passion. It was a day for stupid celebrations and cowardly people pretending that they could gain some bravery during the upcoming year. The holiday was completely worthless, in his opinion.

Of course, it didn't help that December thirty-first was also Tom Riddle's birthday. Sure, he received a copious amount of expensive presents from his parents and one from every CEO that attended the New Year's Eve Party, but that meant little to Tom. Tom had always wanted more sentimental gifts—the kind that were actions rather than material items—though he was too proud to show it. When he was young, he used to wish that his father would be home more often, instead of going away on business trips around the world. Then, once he'd reached adolescence, he wanted to go with his father to see all of the exotic places the man traveled. Now, at the age of twenty-one, Tom just wanted those damn fireworks to stop exploding outside of his bedroom window.

The dark-haired man rubbed his tired eyes and gave up on the large book resting in his lap. He had spent the better part of the day reassuring his frazzled mother that the party would be splendid and the last three hours socializing with men and women twice his age. Then, finally deciding that he had made a long enough appearance to be socially acceptable, he had disappeared upstairs to hide in is room like the antisocial nerd that he was.

While Tom was an exceptionally charming and handsome young man that knew how to socialize and gain important connections, he was naturally more of a lock-himself-up-in-the-library kind of person. He preferred to read and learn than listen to old women gossip and fish for compliments just to feel like they were teenagers again. Or listen to old men talk about their latest investments and fight—albeit through diplomatic insults—over who had the biggest and best new gadget.

Really, he had better things to do with his time. A large yawn interrupted Tom's thoughts and he was once again reminded of how late the hour was. A quick glance at his Rolex watch—a birthday gift from his mother—told him that it was twenty minutes to eleven o'clock.

The tall young man groaned and stood from the chair and stretched, showing off his impressive height, though no one was around to see it. Tom sighed as the depressing thoughts that had been temporarily shoved aside in the face of today's celebration came sliding back into the forefront of his mind like the greasy little buggers they were.

Yes, there was no one around. Tom was currently single and alone on his twenty-first birthday.

Well, at least he was now old enough to go out and buy some alcohol to drown his sorrows in. A wry smile crossed his full lips before it was abruptly replaced by another gaping yawn.

"_There's something…pleasant…about his mouth when he speaks."_

Tom blinked at the random memory. It was something that one of his gay friends had said when they had been discussing the new intern at work. He was a boy of average height and stature, if a little on the thin side, with messy black hair and bright green eyes. The kid was energetic and full of life. He tackled every shitty assignment that the older employees threw at him with a stubborn vigor.

Unfortunately, he was also Tom's friend's type, and consequently the sole subject of all of their conversations. Of course, his friend wasn't serious about the kid, because all of his observations were physical. The boy's messy "sex-hair"; his seemingly endless legs; his full lips; his pert arse. The list went on and on.

Tom himself was bi-sexual, and he could admit that there was a certain charm to the kid's life-loving personality. However, Tom was more interested in the busty blonde secretary than the clumsy boy at the moment. And _merlin_, was that kid clumsy! He was always drawing trouble to himself; running into the boss with his hands full of folder stacks, spilling coffee all over himself (or someone else), and somehow managing to break the copy machine and get covered in ink. He was awkward and shy, but still brave enough to socialize minimally with his new coworkers.

No body patronized him, though, because the kid was good at getting his job done and in record time. Not to mention, he never complained about the ridiculous amount of assignments that his lazy coworkers added to his pile.

It suddenly occurred to Tom that he had been referring to him as "the boy" in his mind and that he couldn't remember the kid's name.

A knock on his door caused the dark-haired man to snap out of his fatigue-hazed thoughts. He quickly shook off his sleepiness and strode across the room to open the door. Who he found on the other side startled him as much as it startled the person opposite the threshold.

Tom stared into shocked green eyes. He was looking at the very same boy that had been consuming his thoughts mere minutes ago.

"Ah, sorry…um, I wanted to see the fireworks from a higher view, and thought that one of the balconies would work perfectly, but I didn't want to just intrude on the rooms, but then I saw the light on in this one and thought that I could ask to look from the balcony connected to this room…but I understand if that's too much trouble, you seem tired and I don't want to keep you from sleeping, or anything…" Harry Potter babbled nervously as he tried to avoid looking at both Tom and his room. He finally settled for staring at his shoes.

Tom snapped out of his shock and suppressed his laughter; the kid was…cute, rambling awkwardly like that. He offered Harry—the name presented itself in his mind now that he was looking at the boy—a kind smile and stepped aside.

"No, it's fine; I couldn't sleep with all the noise, anyway." He motioned a hesitating Harry inside before leading him across the room to the double-doors that lead to the balcony. Tom watched in amusement as Harry resolutely kept his eyes from roaming around the bedroom. Really, he was too cute, trying to remain stoically formal and polite like that. Tom couldn't care less who saw his bedroom; it was always perfectly organized and clean.

He supposed that that some people might consider a bedroom as personal, intimate space. Tom appreciated Harry's respect of that space, however unneeded it was.

The doors to his balcony opened and the two men were bathed in a showering of multi-colored lights as several fireworks exploded at once. It was nearing midnight, now, and the show was becoming more epic in order to lead up to the grand finale at twelve o'clock.

"Oh!" Harry gasped in awe and a large grin spread across his face. Tom was momentarily stunned by the boy's innocence. His expressive eyes sparkled with child-like excitement and he was rocking on the balls of his feet. Tom turned toward the sky as another firecracker went off. He watched it split in the air and rain color, trying to find the beauty Harry seemed to see in it.

"Wow! Look at that one!" Harry exclaimed as another firework shot into the sky and exploded into the shape of a party hat. He pointed at it and turned his bright smile on Tom. The stoic young man found himself smiling back just as blindingly. The show continued and Tom was slowly pulled out of his grouchy mood and soon leaning against the banister next to Harry, exclaiming in true joy at the brilliant display.

The fireworks began to set off numbers counting down from ten as everyone at the party below counted in tandem. Harry was practically jumping as he counted down the seconds until midnight.

Suddenly, Tom could see the beauty and excitement that Harry did during these celebrations.

Before he could truly think over his decision—later, he would blame it on fatigue—Tom reached out and pulled Harry toward him. The smaller man blinked up at him in confusion, but Tom gave him no time to comprehend the situation. He pressed their lips together just as several fireworks exploded in the air. Shouts of "Happy New Year!" filled the air, but they were ignored by the couple slowly kissing on the balcony. Tom sucked Harry's bottom lip into his mouth before pulling away and resting his forehead against his younger partner.

"Happy New Year, Harry," he whispered as Harry closed his eyes in bliss.

"Happy New Year, Tom."

And Tom wasn't so annoyed with the silly party anymore. He wasn't so hateful of his birthdate, either, for he had finally received the present he'd been longing for.

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><p><strong>AN:** Happy Birthday, Voldie! Lol


End file.
